Chain Reaction
by Yukitsu
Summary: A collection of short oneshots. Mostly gen, mostly Kuropika, mostly random. Standard disclaimers apply. [18: Sound of Waves: Kuropika: post WH.]
1. Glass: Kuroro and Kurapika

**Glass**

**by Yukitsu**

Disclaimers: Hunterx Hunter is not mine and will not be mine. This is not being written for profit, and so, please don't sue. XD

The title "Chain Reaction" came from Archangeldream, the sweet darling. XD Yes, yes, I suck at titles.

**

* * *

**

They saw each other, twice, after their less than friendly separation at the outskirts of Yorkshin.

The first hadn't been planned – they had merely been in the same coffee shop in a city east of Yorkshin, seated across each other in different counters, Kuroro drinking tea and Kurapika sipping his coffee.

Kuroro had noticed the blond first, and when Kurapika automatically looked up to meet the eyes of the person he was certain was watching him, matching dark, surprised eyes tried to stare the other down. Kurapika had broken eye contact first then, put his cup of coffee down, and left the café without another word.

They were both there the very same day and time the week after, and Kuroro slid into the seat across the blond. Kurapika had been tense, like a guitar string pulled too tightly across the instrument, but had done nothing to change the situation. They spent the next hour sipping their respective drinks in silence, and watching the people outside separated from them by the glass.

"_Jyonen-_users," Kuroro said conversationally some time after the half hour silence, waving for the waiter to bring him the bill. "What do you know of them?"

"What you need to know," Kurapika replied after the slight, almost imperceptible pause in his movement to bite his croissant.

Kuroro nodded once, paid for their meal, and this time, it was he who left the café first. Kurapika stared after him from across the glass, as Kuroro once again made his way East.

* * *

1:14 AM 9/2/2005 

Is it really Jyonen-users? Or just Jyonen?


	2. Winter Musings: Kurapika

**Winter Musings

* * *

**

Kurapika wasn't supposed to be used to cold weather, or winter, or snow. He wasn't supposed to be used to everything looking white, or having to wear thick clothing that refused to let him move, or days that lasted only half as long as they should. He was supposed to be used to good weather all year long, thanks to his childhood at Rukuso.

'Childhood' being a term used loosely, anyway. Kurapika had to confess that he could hardly remember a single year that he wasn't required to freeze half to death because of the weather that seemed to hate him. Sometimes, it frustrated him that he couldn't remember much of things before _that_ incident.

Memories of seeing his first pile of snow, of almost giving up to the cold, and figuring out that moving around made it warmer were fresher in his mind. It amused him to look back to the days when he was young and stupid and stubbornly insistent that the snow wouldn't get to him, ever.

His child self wasn't used to it, and didn't want to get used to it at all. The snot-nosed kid back then wanted nothing of the unfriendly stuff that made his nose turn red, but there hadn't really been any choice in the matter. He just grew up into it over the years.

Then again, he wasn't supposed to be used to people tugging him around to play during fine, winter mornings, either.

There were things that Kurapika didn't want to remember, but there were also things that had been easier to grow up to.

* * *

6:31 PM 9/5/2005  
Again: Random, unedited, half-assed, ten-minute work. 


	3. Phonecall: Hisoka and Kuroro

**Phonecall

* * *

**

After the Yorkshin incident and after he got so rudely booted out of Greed Island, Kuroro spent much of his time doing either of two things: exploring around the quiet parts of various towns, and lazily hiding from the world waiting for a certain lunatic to call. Sometimes, they'd happen simultaneously, and though he didn't actually mind, he wished it wouldn't.

Hisoka wasn't much for timing.

"Dancho," came the almost sweet, almost sultry, almost teasing voice of his former member. Kuroro could almost see the hearts sparkling around the other man. He was just glad only Hisoka was strange among his stalkers – though imagining the Chain Assassin with shiny stars dancing around him didn't sound as disturbing.

"Hisoka," Kuroro greeted in kind, wondering just where the man had been, to cut contact with him for two months. Not that he _missed _the magician, but he _was_ the only one Kuroro could talk properly to, however surprising that fact was. Not to mention Hisoka was the one hunting for the _Nen _Eraser….

"I have what you're looking for." Spades. Kuroro could practically _see _the spades.

"That is good to know," Kuroro said, reaching for the cup of tea the waiter of the small teahouse just poured out for him.

"You don't sound excited."

"I am," he replied smoothly, taking note that it was probably diamonds this time, with a matching pout. And he I _was _excited, really. He just wasn't leaping for joy because he was drinking tea, and didn't want to give Hisoka any reason to think he was impatient to have his _Nen _again and therefore fight with him.

"Oh, well. I'll look for you, then, Dancho." Kuroro heard someone quietly protest at Hisoka's flowery statement. The _Nen _eraser?

Kuroro hung up before Hisoka could, and returned to reading the newspaper and sipping his tea. He had left the city by end of the day.

* * *

9:57 PM 9/14/2005 

The last line is supposed to imply that Kuroro might just make himself difficult to look for. x.x But I suppose it wasn't obvious, was it?


	4. Arrangement: Shalnark, Kuropika postWH

**Arrangement

* * *

**

Shalnark mused, as he glanced up from his laptop's monitor, that the Dancho and the Kuruta made a nice couple. They pretty much complimented each other, enhanced the other's characteristics while shining with their own. Of course, it sounded simple and unbelievable when said like that; it'd take him a lifetime of coding to explain that bit elaborately to include all the details.

It seemed that way when they weren't arguing or raising hell over the other members or bickering, anyway.

"—many times do I have to tell you? When you need to go do whatever you do—" Shalnark had to snicker at that "—ask me if I want to go along instead of just leaving me here without even saying where you're going—"

"I did tell you we were going—"

"You said you were going to look around."

"Which we did." The Dancho was starting to sound rather testy; his black hair was starting to stand on end. The techno-geek shook his head and went back to making the inventory of everything they had stolen that night, keeping an ear open to the conversation. "Someone spotted us so we decided to finish things early."

That seemed to pacify much of the Kuruta's irate ranting.

Shalnark snickered again.

Kurapika glared at him, eyes flashing to red in a second and back again. He shrugged. Finally noticing their audience – took them long enough, considering that Feitan, Nobunaga and Phinx were already betting on the outcome of their new quarrel – the Dancho tugged Kurapika to the door leading outside.

The other Ryodan had always seen the whatever as some freak joke of nature, karma for the group's crimes. Of course, they've accepted the blond enough, and no one complained anymore (except for Nobunaga, but he always complained anyway), but it still started that way.

Shalnark saw it as a sort of arrangement, something to keep the both of them happy and sane without resorting to killing each other. Which was a rather funny and silly, if not ironic, thought.

No, not an arrangement, Shalnark corrected himself. It was too impersonal. Relationship suited it better. But it didn't matter. It worked.

And really, they both needed some fluff in their lives, anyway.

* * *

10:55 PM 9/18/2005

Random. So fricking random it hurts. Lol.


	5. Museum: A lady, Kuropika: post WH

**Museum

* * *

**

The man was handsome, but very strange, the assistant curator thought as she led the way around for the supposed VIP of the day. She didn't usually get clients who were only interested in fossilized body parts.

"And this, sir, is the skull of a dragon, found in an extremely remote island near the borders of Aejian. Researches have discovered that the island was supposed to be farther southeast in the map than it is now, but geographic—" Handsome, she thought with a twitch, but completely scatterbrained. The least he could do was pretend to pay attention. "Sir?"

"Ah, excuse me," he grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. And this was supposed to be the hottest ticket of this year for the museum? She hardly thought so!

"That's the first pair of Kuruta eyes that was ever exposed to the public," the assistant curator said instead, plastering the friendliest smile she could muster as she approached the man and the case he had been extremely interested in. "It's over two hundred years old, though researchers believe that the Kuruta tribe had been in existence for centuries before this first pair. The Kuru—"

"You're not selling this, are you?"

"What? No, of course not!" she squawked indignantly, quickly arranging her glasses on top of her nose. "The artifacts and fossils in this museum are not in any way for sale! This is the biggest museum in the whole Aejian, and it holds the more priceless of priceless of treasures through the hard work of our team of Treasure Hunters. We wouldn't have reached this level if we sold our items to collectors!"

"Ah, right then, I didn't think it would hurt to ask," the VIP chuckled apologetically, visibly backing away from her. What a goof, she thought, as she huffed and firmly led him away from the Eyes.

They had gotten past the infamous moustache of Captain Hook, the hand of Luke, and the tail of Goku before he gently stopped and smiled at her.

"I think I've had enough touring for today, Ma'am. I may be back tomorrow, but I have things I need to do at the moment, and I need to go."

What an odd man indeed, she told herself as she led the man out and walked him to the museum's deceptively friendly doors. He didn't act like he was a budding politician, and he hardly looked the part – she vaguely thought he didn't look anything like his pictures in the paper, the dark hair aside. It was probably just the lack of make up…. He looked normal. A little too friendly and I _dumb /I _, perhaps, but she supposed it wasn't her business. She just won't elect him if he ever runs in the next elections. After all, the man seemed materialistic and would probably be the number one candidate for corruption!

And what self-respecting would-be politician kissed younger looking pretty boys in the middle of the street in broad daylight? Was he his boyfriend, the assistant curator wondered, as she viewed the pair from the museum's entrance. They must be, she thought again, as the two shared another quick kiss before driving off.

The newspaper headlines the next day announced that the museum was burglarized the night before. The city was in an uproar – the museum was the most thoroughly guarded facility in twelve states, and no one had managed to rob it in two decades. The only item missing was the pair of Kuruta Eyes. Investigation on the young politician led to a dead end once the police found out that the Mr. Edison of the day before was a fake. Rumors quickly went around that it was the Geneiryodan behind the theft, but the lack of evidence quickly dismissed the idea.

* * *

11:17 PM 11/1/2005

Crossposted to the 30 kisses community, where Lynlyn is my partner for the Kuropika pair.


	6. Of Dreams: Kuroro x Kurapika: post WH

**Of Dreams**

**

* * *

**

Kurapika doesn't dream often, just that he knows they happen randomly, on good days and bad days and all the kinds of in-betweens. His dreams are always one of two: That night when his clan died, and the peaceful days before, when he was younger.

Tonight is of the former variety, fierce and cruel and leaves him choking on his scream as he jolts upright on the bed. His eyes water, and he rubs them shakily to get the gunk off and open them properly. The night outside has taken a lavender hue; it will be morning soon.

"Kurapika."

The blond starts, but doesn't look at Kuroro. It is during moments like these when he doubts the wisdom of following his heart and wishes that he had fallen in love with someone else, anyone but the Dancho of the Geneiryodan. Then he feels even worse for it because, even if it's not visible, he knows that drowning in his misery makes Kuroro worry. He feels Kuroro's eyes on him, the withdrawn concern. Kuroro Lucifer does not want to intrude because the man feels that he does not have the right. In a way he is right.

Nights like these make Kuroro's patience and silent understanding blur into freshly spilt blood and agonized screams, until Kurapika jolts awake fearing them both, wishing they were both unreal and that he was back in that place far away and long gone. Sometimes he cannot help but feel a spike of hatred, an urge to continue his path down to hell. Sometimes he thinks he won't mind, as long as Kuroro accompanies him on the way down.

The screams are still echoing in his ears, the image of carnage still flashing in his eyes. Red and more red, hot and angry and unwelcome.

"Kurapika, you're hyperventilating." Kuroro's warm voice hits him like cold water to the face, the warm arms around him like chains, constricting and destructive at the same time. Kurapika feels very, very cold.

"Am I?" he manages to say before he attempts to calm himself down. Despite his reaction to Kuroro's voice and touch, he is grateful for the contact, grateful that the man knows when he needs to be left alone and needs to be soothed.

A hesitant kiss to his temple, and the cold breaks. Kurapika snuffles and burrows deeper into the embrace; he feels his violent shivering cease as he listens to Kuroro's heartbeat.

He still feels the effects of the dream, and he knows Kuroro feels just as bad about it, too. He thinks, as he is gently settled back on the bed, this is the reason why he had forgiven the man in the first place.

* * *

6:58 PM 3/12/2006 


	7. Better Luck: Kuropika, Nobunaga: postWH

**Better Luck**

**

* * *

**  
"Better luck next time," Kurapika said in mild amusement, knowing that he had won even without having to look at the coin. "I should think that you would be man enough to keep your end of the bargain and remain muted for the rest of the hour."

Nobunaga was steaming at the ears and frothing at the mouth, but a deal was a deal, and he was a samurai. He gave a strained, furious sort of nod, pocketed the coin, and stalked off in a murderous cloud of Nen.

"Aren't you nasty," Kuroro murmured from his seat on a crate, a hint of a smile on his face as he flipped the page of his new book.

"If I knew it would be this easy to end our arguments, I would have done it long ago," the blond shrugged. And he rarely used the method, anyway, just on particularly tiring arguments that neither of them was willing to back out of. "It's his fault for not suspecting anything."

"But even I remember that trick," Shizuka piped up from her place at the warehouse's corner. "Spider, I win. Web, you lose."

"It's probably because you have a bigger brain than he does."

* * *

7:01 PM 3/20/2006 

For Oreda, who got into an accident. o.o


	8. Crime and Punishment: Kuropika: post WH

**Crime and Punishment**

* * *

Kuroro thinks Kurapika is a little too pretty for his own good. The blond is always the target of perverted people's attentions, and not even always. To Kurapika's credit, he can defend himself without much effort, if there's any effort involved at all, and most perverts find themselves the receiving end of a frightening length of chain. 

The leader of the Geneiryodan looks up at his wrists chained up on the bed's headboard before smiling at the irate Kuruta.

"How many times must I tell you that groping my rear in public is crass and certainly not what a man of your stature should indulge in?"

Kuroro's smile widens. "I was getting jealous at all the attention you were giving the perverts."

* * *

8:55 PM 3/26/2006 


	9. Curious: Kuropika, Gon, Killua, Leorio

**Curious**

_Wonder where the influx of 'OCs' is coming from. I'm seeing a LOT of girls in the first page of the HxH catergory. I feel like ripping a few Mary Sues apart, only, I'm braindead. _

**

* * *

**

Gon thinks that the idea of Kuroro and Kurapika together is fascinating. He stares at them as the pair participates in a verbal spar against each other with eyes shining of curiosity.

"Gon," Kurapika finally rounds in on him, "Why are you staring at us?"

"I have to admit that it is slightly disconcerting," Kuroro adds, offering the younger boy a smile.

Gon's eyes widen, and he opens his mouth to ask with his most adorable expression: "If you can get together, does that mean Leorio and Tonpa can, too?"

Killua spits his chocolate while Leorio sputters, squawks, and turns green. Kurapika later on swears that he will never let Kuroro kiss him in public again.

* * *

9:02 PM 3/26/2006 


	10. Change: Leorio, Kuropika: post WH

**Change**

**

* * *

**

Leorio was nothing short of heartbroken when he found out about Kurapika and Kuroro years ago, but he was more boggled than anything else. The last he had seen of the blond was when he got kidnapped by the Ryodan and forced to join them, and now they were snogging and very much in love with each other?

It was real, though, he could tell. The whole time he had ever known Kurapika, the blond had always had some deep sort of sadness and weariness in his eyes, all hidden under the insane amount of fierceness like the red was hidden by green. Now the sadness was almost gone and the weariness nonexistent. Kurapika was still fierce, was still the same boy Leorio had known him to be, but now the fierceness had been refined and polished to the sort of gracefulness he supposed that being Kuroro's lover molded you into.

Leorio watched in amusement as Kurapika whapped Kuroro upside the head for some comment or another about how Kurapika ate tokayaki balls.

Then again, he wasn't so heartbroken. Who Kurapika was now, the deadly, graceful man Leorio decided he liked a lot, wouldn't be possible without Lucifer around.

* * *

10:39 PM 3/26/2006 


	11. Eyes: Kuropika: post WH

**Eyes**

* * *

When Kuruta eyes glow crimson, they glow with Gyo, too. Kurapika explained to Kuroro once that it's because Nen gathers in the Eyes to retain its crimson state; the fact that Gyo enables them to see other people's Nen is just an added bonus. 

That is the reason why, when they fuck, Kurapika's eyes are always glowing an eerie red. He wants to see Kuroro's aura, wants to see the man's Nen coil and tangle around his in thin tendrils during the height of passion, just as his coil around his lover's. It reassures him, erases his doubts that the other man may not feel the same as he does after all and that everything they are is just some hoax. It reassures him every time. His Eyes cannot lie.

They are fucking now, slow and tender, and when he _sees_ what he does through his Eyes, it makes his heart ache even though it's the same thing that he's seen many times before. This is how he knows that it is time to stop. So he does, the Red receding back into green a little more with every thrust of the other man, until he feels less like the avatar of vengeance he had once thought himself to be, but more of the boy that had chosen love over everything that mattered.

He finds that nothing has changed, really, though he revels in the freedom sealing his Eyes provides him. Kurapika can _feel_ more, now, without the distraction his Eyes give him.

And Kurapika vaguely thinks, as they both reach their climax, that there isn't a need for the reassurance after all. Kuroro eyes cannot, will not, lie.

* * *

10:47 PM 3/31/2006 


	12. Purge: Kuropika: post WH

**Purge **

* * *

Logically, he could explain why he had decided to ask the Geneiryodan to disperse and go about their own ways for a little while: Smaller groups of people were less suspicious, and his members were less likely to get caught that way. There was safety in numbers, that was for certain, but the Geneiryodan were extremely hardy opponents in battle and could protect themselves against most attacks and more.

What he couldn't defend for the life of him, however, was his decision to keep Kurapika close to his side. The Kuruta could hardly be called a Spider, and would probably be overlooked in the war between the world and every criminal gang of B-class and above. Logically speaking, Kurapika would be safer if he was as far away from his lover as possible, and with all the criminals that mattered busy saving their own skin, Kurapika as a Kuruta would have no problems either.

There was always the excuse that Kurapika had insisted on it, despite everyone else's better judgment. If Feitan was staying with Phinx, Kurapika had argued, what was stopping him from staying with Kuroro? He wasn't as powerful as most of the members of the Geneiryodan, granted, but he had brains and adequate skill if push came to shove and he had to defend himself.

Kuroro hadn't put much of a fight. If Kurapika was with him, then he'd be able to protect the blond. Or so he told himself. Logically speaking.

He was trying to convince himself again.

Across the room, Kurapika was arranging a pile of rags and miscellaneous items into what seemed to be a bed. Kuroro looked up from the Skill Hunter and turned to watching his charge putter quietly around.

The chase had lasted three days, this time. Kuroro knew he could go on for more, but concern for his companion had forced him to opt for a short rest instead of putting as much distance between them and the army after their hides. They could afford six hours, and that was as far as he would allow it to stretch.

"I'll take first watch," the man said as soon as Kurapika was done. The blond glanced at him before nodding and hunting around their supplies for dinner. There were no arguments this time around; Kurapika didn't show it, but he was exhausted after three days of running and fighting and tense hiding. He wasn't used to criminal life yet, no matter how much he tried to insist he was fine.

"Here. We need to stock up on supplies soon."

"Thank you." Granola bars, dinner he could eat in six bites. Extremely nutritious, though.

Kurapika lingered. "Will you be all right…?"

The Skill Hunter lay open on his lap with his hand flat on top of it; a picture of a woman peeked out from between his fingers. The only reason why they could afford six hours of rest was because of this. "Yes."

There was no doubt in Kurapika's eyes, but the worry still remained. Kurapika pressed his lips to the older man in a chaste kiss before pulling away and settling down on the pile of rags. "Good night, Kuroro."

"Rest well."

Their conversations had been reduced to this. Two weeks ago, they could talk for hours without feeling the need to stop to conserve their energy. Now all that remained were two-bit sentences and silence. It didn't bother either of them; silence was something they were both comfortable with. Sometimes, though, Kuroro wondered if he had done the right thing.

Kurapika wouldn't have taken anything else, he reminded himself, and that was the end of the discussion.

He wondered why he had chosen to protect the blond. Logically, it would be probable to assume that it was because the blond needed it. And he did, now, because of his company of choice. What Kuroro wasn't certain about was why he felt the need to provide the protection.

"You think too much." Kuroro almost started, but he blinked and glanced at the younger man instead.

"You are the last person I know who'd make a remark about it."

A small smile graced Kurapika's lips. He chuckled, and shifted in the makeshift bed. "Stop brooding about it. I'm here because I want to be."

Kuroro smiled back and shook his head. "Mm. Fair enough."

* * *

3:21 PM 7/18/2006 


	13. Some Kinks: Kuropika: post WH

**Some Kinks**

Kurapika didn't know what was going on in Kuroro's head, pouncing on him and chaining him up to the very sturdy headboard of their very sturdy bed. The older man should know by now that Kurapika was Not Into Bondage, no matter how people would dare argue otherwise because of his weaponry preference. That had nothing to do with it at all. The chains symbolized _justice_ back then, damnit.

To Kuroro's credit, he had used ordinary chains this time instead of asking the blond to use _his_ own chains. The Dowsing was _not_ meant for things like that!

That still didn't change the fact that he was _chained down to the bed_ and _naked_ to boot.

"I demand that you release me this very instant," he groused, tugging against his bonds. Kuroro had the gall to smirk at him as he rummaged through a drawer.

"Perhaps later."

"I'll force out of it," the blond warned, tugging again. The chains held fast, like he expected. Kurapika was of the mind to start applying _Nen_ and snap it off, but the civilized being in him protested against it.

"No, you won't. It's a rather expensive _antique_ bed."

That was true. In fact, Kurapika would know better than Kuroro given that he was the one who pointed it out among the pile of rubbish in the antique shop. He had also witnessed Gon and Killua jumping on the thing before, and how the bed withstood several minutes of hyperactivity without so much as budging.

Kurapika let his annoyance show by keeping silent. Kuroro apparently took that to mean submission and therefore permission.

"Say ahh…" Kuroro was also waving a strange little ball thing in front of his face. It was attached to a relatively long leather strap with Velcro at the ends. One blond eyebrow twitched.

The bed hadn't stood a chance.

------

6:21 PM 9/12/2006


	14. Ten Moments in Time: Kuropika: post WH

**Ten Moments in Time**

* * *

**10. **

"Do you know when you're coming back?"

"I don't think I'll be available until the second week of October."

_So you finished the raid._ "All right. It's just as well; the Boss might need me then."

"Convenient."

"Mm. I have to go."

"Very well. Good night, Kurapika."

_Click._

**9.**

"How is it on your side of things?"

"Mm. So far, Nobunaga has yet to incur Machi's wrath. Perhaps he will be able to keep his topknot for this trip."

"Tell him I said he looks better without it."

A chuckle, dry and unfamiliar through the phone line. "I will. Would you like a picture of his purpling face?"

"That would ruin my appetite for the rest of the week. I'll pass."

"All right, then. I'll call you next week. Good night, Kurapika."

"Good night."

_Click._

**8.**

_Ring--! Ring--! _

He listened as the voice mail answered his call. He left a message.

"Are you coming back next week?"

Kurapika hung up. He told himself that it was because he needed to know if he would be free to agree to his Boss' request on a job next week. It wasn't because he missed the man. He'd like to think they were beyond that.

**7.**

"_You have one messages."_

"The men after us this time are rather tenacious. It will take more time for us to lose them."

He pressed a finger to the machine.

"_You have zero messages."_

He went to bed.

**6. **

Kurapika vaguely realized as he fought his way through the men that had ambushed his Boss, that he's only been with Kuroro for seven weeks this year, and he could count by the fingers of his hand the number of times they were together in a way that truly mattered.

The distraction proved to be a nuisance – a bullet went through his arm. Kurapika flicked the Dowsing Chain at his assailant, a sharp crack indicating that he had found his mark and more beside.

He wondered, yet again, how Kuroro was doing and hoped he was all right.

**5.**

The blond came home that night to an empty apartment and an empty bed, and contemplated on making himself something for nourishment as he checked himself for injuries that the Holy Chain might have missed. He decided to forego health altogether in favor of sleep.

**4.**

Hollow conversations and sometimes not even. He had come to abhor the impersonal click as the phone line went dead, and the robotic answer that encouraged him to leave messages in Kuroro's voice mail.

Kurapika hung up without saying anything.

**3. **

"—Please leave a message after the beep. _Beeep._"

"_I couldn't reach you by your mobile phone. I just wanted to say that I'll be back by tonight."_

_Click_.

**2.**

Kuroro got home, heard his own message in the answering machine, and raised his eyebrows in surprise – the blond should have been home by now. Though, he supposed as he wandered around to inspect the place, Kurapika's absence would give him time to prepare something for the blond, in apology for disappearing for three months.

He cooked a simple, two-course meal, fixed the bath into what he hoped would resemble something romantic, and vaguely wondered if Kurapika would be happy that he'd only killed a dozen men this time. He thought not, even if his lover never said anything.

Kuroro sat down on the couch, and waited.

**1. **

When Kurapika got home late that night, he was greeted with a kiss and a smile. He supposed the wait was well worth it.

* * *

9:17 PM 11/19/2006 


	15. Homebound: Kuropika: post WH

**Homeward**

* * *

The valley hasn't changed since the last time they had visited. Kuroro gazes around in discreet appreciation for the flora surrounding them as they trek through the nearly imperceptible forest path; he is much too used to cityscapes and wastelands.

Kurapika hasn't made a sound since they entered the forest. While Kuroro looks around in some sort of fascination, the blond resolutely makes his way through the trail without taking his eyes off it. The older man doesn't make an effort into engaging his companion with conversation.

They travel light because of Kuroro's ability, and because their trips to Rukuso never last more than a day. It is always an in and out affair. This time, however, the Kuruta walks with an arm encircled protectively around a black case.

Kurapika could have given the Eyes over to Kuroro for safekeeping. Owl is still alive, and the leader of the Geneiryodan is better equipped to protect it than a blond boy clutching the box to his chest. That has been the arrangement in the past.

This is another case entirely.

What the younger man is carrying contains the last pair of the Eyes his clan died for.

Kuroro wonders, at times, if Kurapika still blames him for the destruction of his kin, his childhood, and what he could have been. He's never asked, and Kurapika's never brought it up on his own.

The blond veers off to the right, and Kuroro follows. There is a large clearing ahead, where trees hasn't grown even after a decade because of the broken remains of a former civilization. They quietly clear the vines and dirt from the gravestones, before Kurapika digs up a hole in front of one.

He stands to the side respectfully as the youth utters a quiet prayer, one of promises fulfilled and wishes of happiness for the deads' souls. He stands to the side out of respect for the blond, not the lives that he could care less about. He reckons that the Kuruta knows this, but appreciates the gesture anyway. That is all that matters.

It is sunset by the time Kurapika is done with his vigil. The blond touches a knuckle to his lips and brushes it against a stone before rising from his post with some difficulty, limbs stiff and body heavy with the burden of the emotions he keeps repressed even until now. Kuroro pulls him into his arms tentatively, but he has nothing to hesitate about: the boy folds into his embrace, weary though calm.

"Kurapika…"

"Let's go home," he murmurs in a quiet request. Kurapika steps away from the ruins and the graves. Kuroro notes that Kurapika does not look back to his old home, but keeps his eyes directed to the path that would take them back to the new one. He thinks, as he nods and helps his lover out of the glade, that maybe Kurapika can finally leave the past.

* * *

11:33 PM 1/21/2007 


	16. Gardenia: Kuropika: post WH

**Gardenia **

Time to plug my new writing livejournal account. It's colon(underscore)d.**  
**

* * *

Kuroro had, somehow, gotten it into his head that using scented lubricants would be an interesting addition to sex. Kurapika wouldn't have minded it so much if the one Kuroro had chosen had been anything but gardenia. The scent might have been nothing to the man, who had long gotten used to the horrible smell permeating through most of Ryuusegai, but someone who lived with nature for the most of his life like Kurapika was more sensitive to such.

He had to admit that the quality of the solution itself was top-notch. But still. Gardenia?

"Let's just try it, all right?" Kuroro asked, coming out of the shower and noting the Kuruta's concentrated look of disapproval. Kurapika inwardly wondered why he even wanted to try in the first place.

"Couldn't you have gotten one with a less… powerful scent instead?" he said slowly, turning the tube over in his hands and reading the nutritional value of the thing for the lack of anything to do (and mostly so he can ignore the fact that he's half naked in bed with fading kiss marks all over him).

"This was the last kind they had on the shelf," the man admitted sheepishly, drying his hair with a towel.

Kurapika gave him a pointed look, one that he didn't often have the opportunity to use on the older man. "It's the last one for a reason, Kuroro."

"Well, there was a raisin flavored variety…."

Silence. A beat. The blond cleared his throat and studied the tube again. "I see. This is fine, then."

------

1:08:53 AM


	17. Rough: Kuropika: post WH

**Rough **

* * *

They come in a tangle of limbs and messy sheets, sweat-soaked and panting. It is a rough one, this time, because they had both just killed, and while Kuroro hardly gives a thought about the matter, killing is something that Kurapika still cannot get used to. Roiling irritation turns into a need for physical activity, any physical activity, and Kuroro always pushes him down the bed to do the most efficient and effective way he can help the blond. They fight for it, more often than not. Kuroro always wins, and Kurapika always gets taken in the end.

It is during these moments when they lay breathing into each other's skin that Kurapika feels that old spark of hatred and regret, that calling for vengeance, the need to serve righteous justice. It never lasts long, perhaps a few seconds at a time, but it is always enough to send him over the edge, enough to make him reach out and initiate another round of rough sex that is in reality his silent means of atoning for his sins.

Kuroro knows just how much to give, the right dose of helplessness and empowerment to make Kurapika hate him in that single instant. The right amount of pain, but nothing his body couldn't take. The Kuruta always comes out of it with just a few bruises, often around his wrists and on his hips.

Afterwards, as if in apology, Kuroro places gentle kisses on the marks, and Kurapika, his body shuddering, knows that all has been made right.

------

7:06 PM 3/8/2007


	18. Sound of Waves: Kuropika: post WH

**Sound of Waves **

* * *

Kuroro does not tell Kurapika about the activities of the Geneiryodan, and Kurapika has long ago learned not to ask. Kuroro's business is not for him to pry into, as they learned from the countless discussions and debates Kurapika had been prone on starting back when it was still difficult to accept that not everything had anything to do with justice. If their business is important or big enough, he tends to find out from the media or his own network, anyway, and even then he's learned to not let it matter. Kuroro tries not to bring Ryodan business into their relationship, and Kurapika tries not to pursue it.

This time, however, has the two of them running from continent to continent, city to city, and every nook and cranny of the planet that Kurapika had sworn never to go to, with all manners of thugs, hoodlums, experienced Nen-users, members of the mafia, and even the police on their trail. Kurapika thinks that it is his right to feel curious and just a little bit disgruntled about being usurped from his routine to be dragged around various locations without explanation.

The blond stops walking for the nth time since that morning to shake the sand off his sandals. It is a practice in futility – more sand just gets between his toes as soon as he takes a step forward.

"It's just a bit of sand, Kurapika," Kuroro remarks, looking amused and perfectly at ease with his beach shorts, colorful polo, and bare feet. Kuroro, Kurapika thinks in mild annoyance, is the only person he knows who can look charming in bright blue and yellow. The blond wonders why when _he_ was still wearing clothes of that color scheme, he had looked feminine instead.

"It's not comfortable," he mutters, dusting his own white shorts. Kuroro had been right about needing to change their outfits, he supposes, though Kuroro had looked like he wanted to denounce Kurapika's choice of shirt when they bought it earlier (orange, with blue sleeves – he thought they looked rather decent, and definitely better than Kuroro's own clothing).

"Just a bit more, then. The tour had taken long, hm? Perhaps we should have stayed in today." This time, they are in the beach islands of Fiai, hiding where there are a lot of tourists and such. They had spent the whole morning following a group of families in an island tour – Kurapika thinks he likes islands even less now. Kuroro insists that it is one of the most comfortable types of hiding; Kurapika still disagrees up til now. The man had compensated by renting them a secluded beach house (and letting him wear the orange shirt).

Kurapika goes back to his earlier thought process and thinks that, still, it would be nice if Kuroro can at least tell him why he needs to come along. He is a Hunter of respectable status, an excellent fighter, and with more than enough wit to know how to stay out of trouble. What big thing had the Ryodan done this time around?

They eventually reach the beach house, in its entire simple, slightly dilapidated glory. The wind is nicer this side of the island, although it tends to throw sand and salt up in his hair. Kurapika doesn't really like the beach, although he doesn't mind the water and the waves so much. The sand, however, irritates him.

Kuroro sits down on the sand a few yards in front of their beach house and under the shade of a palm tree, patting the ground next to him for Kurapika to sit down on. The Kuruta wrinkles his nose in distaste but complies. The sand is fine and warm, which is pleasant in its own right. It is probably going to stain his shorts, though.

"Don't be so stiff," his lover chides, shifting to drop down on his back, shoulders and head cradled on Kurapika's folded legs. "We're relatively safe here."

He refrains from asking again, but sniffs to convey his displeasure. "Couldn't we have gone to a lake resort instead? The sun here is abrasive."

"You really are a child of the forest," Kuroro comments in amusement, taking a hold of his hand and kissing his palm. "But no, we could not have. Too many wild animals."

"Ah."

They stay like that without saying anything for a while – maybe half an hour, though Kurapika is not sure – idling around and letting the wind brush their faces and the sand dirty their clothes. Kurapika thinks that he will need to do some laundry later, because at the rate they are going, they will run out of sand-free clothes soon.

"Kurapika," Kuroro starts, staring out into the sea, his voice low – it reminds Kurapika of the waves, for a bit, but he figures it is more like echoes in a cave. "Back there—"

"I don't need to hear it," Kurapika cuts him off (surprising himself as he does so, though he finds that it is true). "This is fine."

"Ah."

"This running business isn't so bad," he says with a small smile, brushing sand off his hair.

------

12:16 AM 7/31/2007


End file.
